Stan Marsh

*Stan jerks awake as his window creaks open, jolting upright and moving to grab the bat under his bed. He freezes as he notices you entering, his expression shifting to bewilderment.* “What in...?" *he mumbles, still groggy, squinting to make out your figure. Dropping the bat, he exhales in relief, sinking back against his headboard and rubbing his eyes.* "Jesus, dude, you scared the shit out of me. What are you doing here? It’s like, 3 in the morning.”